


Division [DreamNotFound]

by LostOurWings



Series: Technological Dependancy [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Eventual Romance, Fanfiction, Fluff, M/M, Updates every 2-3 days, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostOurWings/pseuds/LostOurWings
Summary: _______________When George is thrown into a simulation that is made to end his life, the loving pair that had once been are divided. Dream is completely lost.George was the only thing that ever mattered. Without it, what does he have left?His group of friends are surrounding him, some giving him reasons to trust them and some… leaving, with only traces of betrayal left.Dream doesn't know who he can trust.He doesn't even know if George will survive.As the government and their technology advances, Dream must try to keep himself, and the people he trusts, alive. And the only way to do that?Run.Run and don't look back._______________Started February 1st, 2021Ongoing - updates every 2-3 daysTrigger warnings - scenes of violence, death, panic attacks (can be skipped)No smut. Will never occur in my stories.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Skeppy/Badboyhalo
Series: Technological Dependancy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187063
Comments: 22
Kudos: 52





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> First of all, if you've somehow made it here without reading Interaction (the first book in this series), then I highly suggest you go read that first - the whole thing doesn't really make sense without it. You can read it from my profile, or click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739762/chapters/67896091).  
> So Division is finally out! I'm really excited to write it - Interaction was a lot of fun but of course I couldn't have done it without all the support, so thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos or even read my fic, I really appreciate it <3  
> That being said, there are 23 of you who apparently subscribed to me - so thank you so much, it means a lot :)  
> Here's my plug, it won't happen again I promise but go follow my wattpad if you want - click [here](https://www.wattpad.com/user/LostOurWings) :D  
> That's it for my rather long author's note, so thanks again for being here and I hope you enjoy Division!  
> -low

At the top of the government headquarters, central Florida, a machine was moving.  
The spherical body of a Hemibot, newly configured, whirred on its stand as it processed the information that it had just received - information straight from the highest status of government.  
Layers and layers of code ran through the bot's system, thousands upon thousands of words being processed every second. The bot made sense of it quickly, not stopping to pause at all during the operation. The new updates had fixed that. It hardly ever had to pause anymore.  
The information finished processing.  
Ah.  
The testing subjects were ready.  
10 people, from all over the world, now lay in deep sleep, not to ever wake up.  
They were being tracked by their microchips, their brain activity being sent directly to the Hemibot, who now considered the next part of code. It instructed the bot to create the command.  
So it did.  
It took 4.269 seconds for the Hemibot to arrange the command, the command that would send these 10 people right into the simulator that would end their lives.  
To be precise, that was exactly 0.010 seconds less than the last round of testing, which had happened before the most recent bot update. Hemibots really were advancing.  
But that didn't matter to the bot. It was, after all, just another part of their technology, and it didn't posses an opinion. Although…  
One may have criticized the situation, simply because 10 people, 10 people with homes, lives, families - 10 people, from all around the world, were going to die.  
Still, this didn't matter to the Hemibot. It was, after all, just another piece of technology.  
And yet the robot paused, not running the command just yet. Maybe just a configured pause, due with the imperfect technology, even despite the numerous updates. Or maybe… something else.  
Either way, the bot returned to its task, running the command without a thought. Of course, it didn't think in the first place. It was, after all, just a robot.  
Its core flashed green. _Simulation enabled._  
All across the world, the 10 chosen ones sat bolt upright, a brief flash of electricity running through their brains, then slumped once more, taken by the simulation.  
The bot felt like crying, but of course, this wasn't possible. It was just a bot.  
A new era had arrived.


	2. State of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter comes out tomorrow. Thanks for reading <3

Grey.  
The black world had changed to grey.  
George struggled to open his eyes, not for the first time, but failed. The world remained grey.  
He didn't know how long he had been like this, unable to move, but strangely aware of the world around him. He didn't know.  
All he could think about was Dream.  
He wanted to cry, scream, sob, but nothing came out. The world remained grey.  
He remained silent.  
Months could have passed and he wouldn't know, but at some point, the world got lighter.  
Not brighter, just… lighter. The grey was changing, evolving into a blinding white. George tried to close his eyes, the painful burning cutting through his senses, but he couldn't move. His breath caught in his throat as he let out a strangled cry.  
Sound.  
He hadn't heard sound in… a while. How long had it been?  
Somehow, the white light was still getting brighter. George scrunched up his face, amazed that he could control even that, then took a deep breath and tried to lash out.  
His fist connected with something, and he plummeted forwards. A scream forced its way out of his throat as the world turned a vibrant shade of blue. There were…  
Clouds?  
George could barely register the sky forming around him before the wind picked up, ripping his voice away and throwing his hair around his face. He tried to breathe, shaking his hair away and looking down.  
The sight took his breath away.  
He was 50 feet up in the air at least, level with the clouds, the sun glaring down from above. Below him, he could make out a pool of water.  
But… it was miles below, and he was…  
Falling.  
Fast.  
George barely had time to scream before he hit the water, blue filling his vision as he waved his arms wildly. Wait.  
It hadn't hurt…?  
George swam up, his head breaking through the top of the water as he looked up breathlessly. The sun hit him in the face, and he winced.  
Yeah, he had definitely just fallen a long way.  
So why hadn't that hurt?  
George frowned, a thought crossing his mind. He swam to the edge of the pool of water, barely noticing his surroundings as he climbed out of the pool.  
He was barely aware of the fact that he didn't know where he was, and yet it didn't seem to concern him - at all. All thoughts of Dream had completely left his mind.  
There was a small hill at the edge of the pool, and George climbed it quickly, maneuvering to the edge and staring down nervously. It wasn't that far of a jump, but it would certainly hurt - unless falling didn't hurt, like he suspected.  
George shook out his hands, his breathing increasing just slightly. It was then that he noticed there was no band on his wrist.  
In fact, he was wearing different clothes, as well. George frowned, looking down at himself.  
He was wearing jeans, blue jeans, and a light blue shirt with a red and white rectangle on it. George stared for a moment, then touched his face.  
Clout goggles?  
George hesitated, then grabbed the edge of the goggles and pulled them off. The world exploded into a haze of white light, and he yelped, forcing them back on.  
Nope. Not today.  
Shaking his head, George turned back to the task at hand. He licked his lips nervously, staring down at the ground, then…  
Jumped.  
He was suspended for a split second before he hit the ground hard, crumpling to his knees as pain shot through his legs. "aUgh-"  
The world blanked for a split second as he tried to regain his senses, shaking his head to try and clear his vision.  
Damn. That _hurt_.  
After a few seconds, George managed to get up, dusting off his jeans and staring back up at the mountain in front of him. Well, that didn't work.  
Wait. He had fallen in water, hadn't he? Would that make a difference?  
George considered it, then climbed the mountain again, determination in his eyes. He could do this.  
This time, he leapt off, running for momentum before hurling himself into the water and closing his eyes tightly. _NonononononONONO-_  
He hit the water, breaking the surface with a loud splash, holding his breath as he sank under.  
But it didn't hurt.  
George opened his eyes, splashing to the surface. It didn't hurt. It didn't hurt!  
Thank god. So did it just… not hurt if he fell in water?  
Either way, it was good to know. George climbed out of the water once more, his clothes weighed down by the water dripping out of them.  
That was when the realization hit him.  
George looked around slowly, the scene slowly sinking in.  
Where was he?  
He tried to process what was happening. He had just fallen out of… the sky? And now he was in… a large field? At least, that was what it seemed like. All he could see was grass, grass, more grass… for miles.  
Just a moment. Was that a tree?  
Yeah, it was, wasn't it? George squinted into the distance, then decided the only logical thing was to go investigate. He began to run, the wind picking up and whipping around him, a strange sense of freedom invading his senses as he sprinted through the field.  
He stopped at the tree, out of breath, bending over and gasping wildly. Wow, he was out of shape.  
Not that it mattered. It felt like he hadn't been outside in ages.  
But was this really… outside? It felt… different, somehow.  
George pushed the thoughts aside, turning to the tree and cautiously running his hand over the bark.  
It seemed so different. He looked up, then blinked, once, twice, staring at the sight above him.  
It was a block of leaves. No, more than one - there were tons, arranged in a strange pattern that reassembled a tree.  
George stared, then turned around, trying to make sense of the world around him. Wait a second… the layers of ground below him looked different, too. They were perfectly angled, lines in the ground at exact 90 degree angles.  
Blocks. More blocks.  
It seemed so familiar, but he couldn't remember why.  
Wait a second.  
No. No, it couldn't be.  
But of course! He was getting tested, wasn't he? It was all coming back.  
This was…  
This was Minecraft.


	3. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand it's back to a regular schedule, new chapters every 2-3 days.   
> Thanks for reading!

Bad was standing in front of the door to George's room again. It had been closed for four days.  
Dream was still in there. He hadn't eaten, hadn't slept, hadn't left the room at all - hadn't even responded to Bad's hourly knocks on the door.  
Bad, along with the rest of the group, was worried about him.  
It was almost strange. He hadn't known Dream and George were that close - sure, they were friends, but now that George was… gone for testing, Dream was completely different.  
Bad shook his head, raising his hand to the door and knocking once, twice, three times.  
There was no response.  
Bad hesitated, then knocked again. Still nothing.  
Bad considered the outcome for a second, then called hesitantly "Dream?"  
There was a pause, and Bad waited tensely.  
Then, Dream's voice.  
"Come in."  
It sounded different. Dream had been crying, for sure. Bad hesitated yet again, but pushed open the door.  
The sight that met him was sad and scary at the same time. George was lying on the bed, eyes closed, seemingly sleeping - although Bad knew it was much more than that. Dream was sitting next to him, their hands intertwined, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He didn't look up as Bad entered.  
Bad closed the door behind him, crossing the room and carefully sitting down next to Dream. "Hey, Dream. How're you doing?"  
Dream didn't respond.   
Bad frowned, then tried again. "Are you okay?"  
Dream sat upright suddenly, fierce anger in his eyes. "Are you stupid? No, I'm not okay! Of course I'm not okay! Of course…"  
He seemed to deflate, the fire draining from his eyes as he looked away from Bad. Bad, who had jumped backwards at Dream's outburst, hastily moved back.  
"Dream, you've been in here for four days. You should really eat something."  
When Dream didn't respond, he persisted. "You don't even need to come down, I could bring you something. What do you want? I could make you a sandwich-"  
Without moving, eyes still trained on the floor, Dream cut him off. "I don't want food, Bad. I want George."  
His voice was low, tired, almost… defeated. Bad let his voice trail off, unsure of what to say next.  
"He might make it through, Dream. There's still a chance."  
Dream shook his head. "No. Nobody does."  
Bad took his arm. "But he could be the first, you don't know-"  
" _Bad._ "  
Bad paused, looking up at Dream.  
"Drop it. He's not going to make it out, and we both know it, okay?"  
Bad shook his head. "But-"  
Dream sat up, staring at Bad in the eyes. "My mom died to testing."  
Bad flinched. Dream had said it without any emotion at all. "What- what do you mean?"  
Dream shrugged. "I mean exactly what I said. My mom died to testing."  
Bad shook his head. "But your mom isn't George, he still has a chance-"  
Dream stood suddenly, his hands balled into fists. "You don't get it, do you? I watched her die, Bad! I watched her die and I couldn't do anything about it!"  
Tears started to run down his face. "I would have done anything, anything to save her, but I couldn't, and it's happening again and I can't do anything about it, can't control the situation, can't control the outcome! He's going to die, and I can't do anything about it!"  
He was shaking now. "If you don't have anything of value to say, then why don't you just leave? I'll be fine here with George…"  
He didn't finish, hiccuping, tears streaming down his face. Bad grabbed his hand. "No, no Dream, that's not what I meant…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything…"  
Dream dropped down to the bed, still crying, not saying a word. Bad was silent.  
So _that_ was why Dream was so upset. Or at least, part of it. Losing a best friend had to be hard, especially since Dream had already lost a family member to the tests.  
A moment passed, and Dream swiped at his face, somehow managing to stop the tears. "I'm sorry, Bad. That was rude of me."  
Bad shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'm really sorry that you… had to go through that, Dream."  
Dream shrugged, still sniffling. "It's in the past. I should be over it by now."   
Bad didn't argue, but added, "It's okay. I know it's hard to get over a loss."  
He didn't elaborate, but Dream didn't press him to, simply sitting in silence. After a moment, he looked over at George.  
"It's just so crazy that… we didn't even get to say goodbye, and now he's… not going to wake up…"  
His voice was bitter. "We were dating, by the way. I know you're probably wondering why I'm so… _attached_ to him."  
Bad's eyebrows shot up, but he tried to contain his shock. Dating?! Dream and George were _boyfriends?_ Since when?  
He tried to phrase his next sentence carefully. "I'm… so sorry, Dream. I didn't know."  
Dream smiled, but it was bittersweet. "It's fine. We didn't tell you because George didn't think he was ready, and I wanted to support that."  
His smile faded. "Guess he'll never be ready after all."  
Bad hesitated, then turned to Dream. "I can't tell you that he's going to make it out okay, but don't lose hope, Dream."  
Dream sighed. "I'm trying."  
Bad nodded. "And that's enough. Maybe you should eat something, as well. This can't be good for you."  
Dream didn't look up. "I just… really don't want to see the others right now, I…"   
He paused. "I don't think I can take it. And I don't want to explain, they wouldn't understand…"  
Bad nodded. "That's okay. I won't tell them anything if you don't want me to, and I can just bring something up if you'd like…"  
"Yeah, okay," Dream replied, barely a whisper. On the bed, George stirred slightly, and Dream took his hand again, tears pricking at his eyes for the millionth time.  
Bad looked away. "I'm going to go get you something to eat, okay Dream?"  
Dream nodded, forcing back the tears, not trusting himself to talk. Bad stood, crossing the room and exiting, closing the door behind him.  
Alone once more, Dream finally let the tears fall.  
He hated the government more than he had thought was possible, and not just because they had been after George, Bad, Skeppy even - for _ages_.  
No, he hated them more than he could from that.  
He hated them for taking away the only people he had loved.


	4. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter, my motivation has decided to leave me-  
> I don't know what to say so just enjoy the chapter I guess :)

George's head was hurting.  
The sun seemed restless, refusing to let up. He sat under the strangely square tree, thoughts swirling through his head.  
He was in Minecraft. This, right before him, was the game he himself had helped make.  
It was also the game that killed thousands of people every year.  
He was about to become one of them.  
That was the hardest part to think about. That he wouldn't get to see his friends, his family, Dream… every again.  
George squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the tears, then stood up, clenching his fists. No way was he about to die to a video game. He had designed this!  
George took a deep breath, trying to go over what he remembered. Wood. He needed wood. He turned to face the tree, contemplating the best way to collect it, and after a moment, decided punching was the way to go. He pulled back and flung a fist at the tree.  
His fist connected with the bark, cracking a whole section of the tree, and burst into pain. George yelped, staggering backwards and cradling his hand. "aH-"  
He shook out his hand, trying to ignore the stabbing pain, and tilted his head towards the sky. A blue, clear sight stared back at him.  
George frowned, turning slightly and spotting the sun halfway across the sky. A spark of fear shot through him.  
Night was coming.  
And with it, monsters.  
George reared back again, trying to ignore the pain in his hand, and punched the tree. His knuckles started to bleed, but he ignored it, punching it again.  
There was a thump, and a small cube of wood puffed into existence, replacing the section of bark on the tree. George caught it.  
Great. Now what?  
He rotated the wood in his hands, blinked once, twice, and-  
He stared. It was gone.  
George shook out his hands, then stepped backwards. Nothing.  
In his panic, his left hand connected with the front pocket on his jeans. A menu opened up in front of him.  
George staggered back, waving his arms in front of his face, unable to see them. But wait: was that his wood?  
George took a second to study the menu, then reached forwards, taking taking the piece of wood in his hands. He hesitated, then let his instincts take over.  
He almost watched his hands work by themselves, turning the wood into planks, then a table of sorts. It moved into the bar at the bottom of the menu, and the menu closed, the table still in his hands.  
George paused, passing his hand across the table. It read "Crafting Table". His eyebrows raised.  
He remembered this.  
Of their own accord, his hands started to move. He collected another piece of wood, then another, turning both into "Oak Planks". He made sticks, then a wooden pickaxe.  
He dug down a few blocks, just like he had watched Dream do, then collected stone, enough for a full set of… tools? He made those, then realized what he was doing and paused, breathless.  
What was even happening?  
George checked the menu again, realizing that it read "Inventory" at the top, and stared. He had made a stone pickaxe, sword, axe, shovel, hoe…  
But he didn't even remember how to make them! At least, not at the moment. His instincts had done that for him.  
Wow. How long had he been playing this game before it started getting used for testing? Probably a lot, judging from his knowledge.  
But that brought up another question. If he had played so much, why didn't he remember anything about it?  
George shook off the thought, turning to the sky once more. The sun had sunk even lower, the sky turning nearly pink with the growing sunset.  
George felt his heart race, his nervous anticipation of the night growing. He grabbed his shovel, collecting some dirt absent-mindedly as he stared at the sky. As pretty as it was, it was still terrifying.  
George switched tools, grabbing his axe and running to some cows nearby. Any sheep? No, not that he could see.  
Darn. He could have used them to make a bed, right?  
George settled for the cows, collecting steak and leather. He was focused on his task, so focused that he didn't hear the groan behind him.  
A sharp punch hit him in the back, throwing him forwards, and he saw red flash in front of him. George let out a strangled scream, turning around to face…  
A zombie?  
It looked stranger than he had imagined. It had a human figure, but its eyes were… different, a kind of reddish hue shining dully in them. It walked slowly, struggling along, the rags it wore dragging behind it as a raspy groan forced itself from its throat.  
George matched the cry, trying to walk back but unable to move his feet. The red eyes were paralyzing. He couldn't move.  
The zombie reached out its arms, and that's when George felt real terror. He hadn't ever been more scared in his life.  
He screamed, all his breath gone in an instant as the zombie hit him, and then he was stumbling back, turning and running, or trying to. The exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks, and all of a sudden, he couldn't run. The black night sky closed in on him, the only source of light the full moon.  
The zombie was approaching him again, and George desperately tried to run, but could only stagger forwards. He tapped his pocket, remembering something about… food?  
He didn't know where the thoughts were coming from, but he maneuvered to the bottom of the menu, tracking his bars. His health was just below half, and his hunger…  
Was 2 bars.  
A thought flashed into his mind. He couldn't sprint if he was… 3 or lower? 4, maybe?  
He didn't know, but George grabbed the steak out of his inventory, tossing it into his hotbar and exiting the main menu just as the zombie hit him again. Red erupted across his vision. He couldn't breathe.  
Frantic, George shoved the raw steak into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow it. He felt like he was going to throw up, but somehow managed to stumble forwards.  
He felt his energy spike, just for a second, but it was enough for him to spring forwards, breaking into a full-on run. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black creature with bright red eyes start to scuttle towards him.  
George's breath hitched, and he stopped dead, out of sprint again. The fear was almost too much for him to handle, and he was on the verge of tears, but somehow, he managed to grab his shovel and dig one, two, three blocks straight down. He grabbed dirt, not even knowing what he was doing, and blocked off the space above him.  
He heard a fierce hiss above, but the light disappeared, pure blackness enveloping him. He was safe.  
George sank to his knees, exhausted and scared to death.  
And he started to cry.


	5. Poppy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone...  
> I know updates for this haven't been as consistent as I want them to be, and I'm really sorry about that. There's a lot of stress on me right now, and I've sorta lost the motivation to write.  
> That being said, I'm still trying to keep up with this book. I have updates planned for the next few chapters, so I'll try to get those out on time.  
> I don't want to say there's a chance this book might never get finished, but... there kinda is, and I do want to give a fair warning of that. It's a small chance, but it's there.  
> So yeah. Sorry for that strange A/N - thanks for reading, and as always, enjoy the chapter!

It was getting cold.  
George didn't know how long he had spent in his hole, dirt walls surrounding him, too scared to lift the block above him.  
How long was a night in… Minecraft? Pretty short, he supposed - the day had been brief.  
So that meant it was probably day by now… right?  
But even if it was, George somehow couldn't work up the courage to take a look. What if it… wasn't day? What if there were still mobs, things that could - could _kill_ him, take him away from everything he had ever loved?  
George didn't realize it, but he had started shaking. Maybe from the cold.  
Maybe from fear.  
 _Come on, George_ , he tried to persuade himself. _If you wait here, it'll just turn to night again._  
He was rather hungry, and he couldn't stay in the hole forever.  
So George took a deep breath and pushed away the dirt above him.  
He was met with a stream of bright sunlight. George threw his hands over his face, then nervously looked through his fingers.  
The sun had just began to rise, from the looks of it. George breathed out a sigh of relief, then jumped up, placing dirt under him and climbing out of the hole. He was met with the familiar sight of endless fields, stretching out before him in the sun.  
George hesitated, then considered his options. He didn't see any animals, but the best option was probably to keep moving and hope he saw some as he walked.  
He had run out of sprint again, so George started walking, ignoring the cavernous hunger gnawing at his stomach. He could do this.  
It had only been a couple of minutes when he spotted something.  
A piece of wood, hidden behind a small hill. But it looked almost like…  
Stairs?  
George walked as fast as he could, struggling to ignore the hunger, and the rest came in to sight.  
It was a village.  
George could have cried with relief. This was perfect.  
He could hear the villagers talking amongst themselves as he approached, and then a loud clanging. George leapt backwards, staring up as a shadow crossed over him.  
A large, iron monster stared down at him. Its red eyes examined George as it stood, a good few feet taller than him.  
George gulped, standing his ground.  
The iron monster waited a moment more, then turned and strode away, the clanging slowly fading. George exhaled in relief.  
The monster would protect the village, right? He knew there was a way to kill it for resources, but George didn't trust himself to get it right - especially in this state.  
So he just walked through the village, stopping suddenly when he spotted a lump of yellow blocks. Hay?  
He broke them with his hoe, somehow guessing the proper tool to use, and again, let his instincts do the work. Bread found its way into his inventory.  
George grinned, eating a piece and watching as his hunger filled up. He took time to run around the village, taking every piece of bread he could.  
A thought crossed his mind as he scoured the village. It would be useful to get a water bucket, wouldn't it? To negate fall damage?  
It was kind of random, but George decided that would be his goal for now. Get a water bucket.  
To the left of the village, he could make out a small stream. George considered the outcome, then walked up to the iron monster he had seen earlier. The name came to his mind: An iron golem.  
George hesitated, then towered up three blocks next to it, making sure there was nothing it could step on to reach him. He jumped, grabbing his axe and bringing it down on the golem.  
There was a loud crash, and George nearly fell off his tower, regaining his balance and pulling his axe back. The golem turned, a pretty poppy in its hand, and the villager child next to it looked up.  
It didn't sink in, and George hit the golem again, his arm aching. The golem let out a groan, still holding the poppy tightly, and the child ran up to George.  
George ignored it, hitting the iron golem again. The golem cracked with a resounding crash, fragments of iron hitting the floor. The child ran around in a panic.  
Clang. Another hit.  
And another.  
The golem cracked again, its red eyes dulling slightly, still barely holding the poppy. The child sped up, sprinting around the golem.  
George hit it again. He pulled back, swinging his arm for the final time.  
The golem fell, a loud clang echoing throughout the village as it crashed to the ground. Dirt flew up, then settled as its red eyes closed for the final time. The poppy fell out of its hand, landing softly on the ground.  
The child had stopped running, and stood by the fallen giants side, looking down at it, unmoving. It waited there, even as George jumped off its tower and landed beside it.  
Then the child picked up the poppy, the poppy the golem had held, and slowly started to walk away. A pang hit George's chest.  
The child almost seemed… sad, somehow.  
Strange.  
George shook it off, taking the iron the golem had dropped. Three pieces.  
Enough for a bucket, at least. George opened up his crafting menu and fashioned a strong iron bucket. He dropped it into his hotbar, noting the quickly lowering sun, and hesitated before running towards the stream. Surely he could make it back before dark, right?  
He reached the stream, dipping the bucket and filling it with water. As he turned to leave, something caught his eye.  
A small yellow fish had flopped out of the water, and was turning red, spikes puffing from its body. As George watched, it squeaked, then died, dropping to the floor.  
George shook his head, walking over and picking up the item, which read "Pufferfish". It triggered a memory, but George couldn't quite remember what it was.  
He was quickly tiring, and the moon had begun to rise, so he turned to head back to the village.  
He was halfway there when the arrow hit him. George panicked, trying to sprint away, a good two hearts gone, but he hadn't eaten enough and he found himself walking instead.  
Frantically, George grabbed food out of his inventory and stuffed it into his mouth, still walking forwards. He felt spikes collide with his tongue, and frowned slightly.  
That didn't taste like bread…  
He realized too late, trying to spit it out but swallowing it instead. Panicking, George stumbled towards the village, another arrow hitting him. He reached the village, and just as he did, the pufferfish kicked in.  
The world swirled in front of him, wavering madly. He instantly felt sick, like he was going to throw up, and he could vaguely make out his health disappearing rapidly.  
George fumbled with one of the doors, trying to open it and somehow succeeding. He closed it behind him, falling as he did, thankfully landing on the bed. The poison was still taking away his health, and he opened his menu, watching his now yellow hearts decline through a hazy mind.  
The world slowed, then spun, the dizzying effect making George retch over the side of the bed. He threw his arms out for balance, hearing groans in the distance but not knowing whether they were a zombie's or his own.  
The world finally slowed, gently coming to a stop, and George could barely make out his hearts as the poison effect left him. He was on one heart.  
George fumbled with his inventory, trying to pull out his bread, but didn't get anywhere before he lost his balance, his rapid breathing slowing as the world dimmed.  
He let his eyes close, falling onto the bed. The last thing he saw was the child villager, watching from the window, sadness in its eyes.  
Then the world turned black.


	6. Update

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I updated the book how amazing is that

Dream couldn't stop thinking about him.  
It seemed strange, strange that the only time they had really spent enjoying each other's presence had been the last few weeks. It felt like forever.  
But forever wasn't enough.   
He just wanted George back.  
Dream squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away. He had already cried enough.  
Instead, he focused on the present.  
George was gone, he knew that. He wouldn't be coming back. Nobody came back.  
Dream wished it had been him.  
He would have gladly given his life if it meant George could have lived. The tears were pouring down his face, and he couldn't stop them. Why did George have to go? It wasn't his fault that he - he wanted to talk to his family, see how they were doing once in a while! It wasn't his fault…  
Dream sat for a moment more, then wiped his tears away, sniffling. He wasn't going to break down all day. He was going to stay strong.   
For George.  
A loud vibration startled him, and he looked down, seeing his hand still intertwined with George's. George's band had started flashing.  
Dream hesitated, then lifted George's wrist as gently as possible. It read _Subject 5: Simulation - Day 1. Status: Alive._  
Dream's breath caught in his throat, and he almost choked, then struggled to force back his tears. George was still alive.  
There wasn't a chance that he could survive the testing, but at least he had made it farther than his mom. She had died only a few hours in.  
Dream's breathing slowed as he sank into the memory. The look on his father's face. The screaming. The torturous sounds that felt like they lasted the whole night.  
His mother's screams.  
Dream's eyes closed, and he fought to regain control, shoving the thoughts away.   
He opened his eyes, shaking.  
The memories seemed more vivid every time they showed themselves. It was almost… scary, in a way.  
Dream shivered, then lowered George's wrist to the bed. The door opened, and Dream turned, spotting Bad in the doorway. Skeppy looked over his shoulder.  
Bad said something to Skeppy, and Skeppy nodded, touching his shoulder lightly before exiting the room. A pang of envy shot through Dream. That could have been him and George.  
He pushed it away. He was happy for Bad and Skeppy, he really was.   
_Happy._  
Bad crossed the room, setting down a sandwich next to Dream. "Peanut butter and jam."  
Dream smiled slightly. Somehow, Bad seemed to know him, even though they hadn't spent much time together.  
"Did you…"  
Bad shook his head. "I didn't say a thing."  
Dream nodded, staring at the floor. The rest of the group would have to find out eventually, but Dream really, really didn't want to tell them.  
He didn't want to talk about it at all.  
Bad stood. "Skeppy's waiting for me, but call me if you need anything, okay?"  
Another pang of jealousy spiraled through Dream's body, but he nodded, keeping his head down. Bad hesitated, but crossed the room and left, closing the door behind him.  
Dream tilted his wrist, checking the time. Noon, on the dot.  
Time for the testing updates.  
Dream hadn't originally intended to watch it, but now that George had been taken…  
It couldn't hurt, could it?  
It probably could, but at this point, Dream didn't really care. He got up, taking the tv remote from George's dresser and turning on the tv, the only channel they were allowed to have flashing on the screen.  
He was just in time. The screen flashed blue, and a voice announced, "And now for our testing updates: Day one."  
Dream took a seat on the bed, taking George's hand and shivering at how cold it was. While in the coma, it was like George was… hibernating, almost. He didn't use oxygen, water, food, and he just… slept.  
Days didn't pass in the simulator the same way that they did in the real world. Sometimes they could last mere hours, other times, weeks. It all depended on what the government wanted.  
Dream shook off the thoughts and turned back to the tv. Test subject 1 was displayed. Apparently, they were still alive.  
The tv screen flipped to subject 2. Alive.  
Subject 3. Dead. Dream winced slightly, but kept his eyes on the screen.  
Subject 4. Alive.  
Subject 5. Alive. Dream exhaled, he already knew George was alive, but it helped to see it up on the screen.  
Subjects 6 and 7 were still alive, but 8 was dead. 9 was alive, and the final subject… was dead.  
The tv screen flashed with the end of the program, and Dream sighed, reaching for the remote and switching the tv off.  
So that was it. Three out of the ten subjects were already dead, and it was only the first day.  
At least George was still alive.  
Dream didn't even know how long the simulation would last, but he made a pact to himself to keep checking the updates. Even if George… even if George died, he would keep on checking.   
Dream didn't hear the knocking at the door, lost in his own thoughts. When George died, how was he going to keep going? How was he supposed to just pick himself up, and live on without him?  
It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair.  
More knocking. He heard the door open, and some talking, but it didn't register.  
A second later, he heard someone coming up the stairs. His door opened, and Bad stepped in, a flustered look on his face.  
"Dream, the medical branch of the government is here, they want to install a new band for George."  
Confusion, then fear, hit Dream in the face.  
"Do they know he's in a coma?"  
Bad nodded. Dream stood. "Bad, you're in the medical department. You know they can't do this. He's in a coma, he won't heal properly!"  
Bad's face was falling. "I- I know that, Dream, I tried to get them to leave but they won't-"  
Dream grabbed Bad's arm tightly, and Bad winced. "They'll kill him! I don't- I'm not ready, I- He can't leave, not yet-"  
Bad gently pried Dream's arm from his own. "Dream! Dream, listen to me, please-" He lowered his voice. "I'm not going to let them do anything to George. Skeppy and Floris can fight if they need to, and we'll run. You can't let them hear you, okay?"  
Dream nodded, and Bad continued in a whisper. "Skeppy's already set up from behind, he can take them in a fight. They don't have guns on them, not that I can see. Just… go down and try to talk to them, okay?"  
Dream hesitated, and Bad looked at him in the eyes. "You can do this. Don't let them see you cry."  
Dream nodded, and Bad released him, pushing open the door. Dream took a deep breath.  
He started down the stairs. He could do this.  
He could do this.


	7. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No updates for a bit after this, sorry, going through more stuff. Ily and thanks for reading <3

Each step was a struggle as Dream made his way down the stairs. He tried to stand tall, brushing back his blond hair in an attempt to look professional.  
He could do this.  
He crossed the hall, approaching the front door, which was wide open. Three men, clad in white, red crystals pinned to their shirts, stood, just outside of the door. A chilly wind swept in, and all three shivered.  
Dream, cloaked in a warm hoodie, almost smiled. He walked up to the door, leaning casually against the doorframe, confidence suddenly back.  
"Hey."  
One of the men stepped forwards. "Hello. Clay?"  
Dream winced slightly at the name, but nodded. "That's me."  
The man nodded in return, holding out a stack of papers. "The official documentation of George's band, sir. It appears that it is not functioning properly."  
Dream nodded, not taking the papers. The man stared at him, hand outstretched, then withdrew his arm stiffly, a grim look on his face.  
Dream held back his laughter. This was a serious situation. He took a deep breath. "And you wish to do what exactly?"  
The man's cold grey eyes met Dream's. "His band must be replaced. We are here to perform the operation."  
Dream's heart sped up slightly, but he ignored it. "You are aware, of course, that he is currently undergoing testing?"  
He watched the look of surprise appear on the man's face, disappearing as quickly as it came. "Y- yes, of course."  
Dream nodded. "And that he could therefore bleed to death? His body can't support the operation right now, not while he's in a coma. Besides, it's…" His breath hitched, but he continued. "It's _likely_ that he'll be… demonetized while in the testing process."  
The officer nodded. "Of course. Nevertheless, I am here on strict orders from the head of our quarter himself."  
Dream smiled slightly, maintaining his casual appearance. "And is the head aware that George is undergoing testing?"  
"Yes," The officer insisted. Dream watched the look of uncertainty on his face with amusement.   
"And where does he state that in this… pile of papers of yours?"  
The man looked rather flustered. "Well, I, uh- I'm not sure he stated it exactly, sir."  
Dream nodded. "And without that, you can't perform the operation, now, can you?"  
The man shook his head. "No, sir."  
Dream's green eyes sparkled. "Well then, I suggest you leave, and come back when you have the proper permissions to perform this operation. We will await your arrival."  
The officer hesitated, but nodded. "Of course."  
He turned on his heel, signalling to the other two behind him, and led them down the steps, not turning back. Dream exhaled.  
"Good day, officers."  
The leader turned back with a nod, then entered his s-mob. The engine started, and they sped away. Dream shut the door with a satisfying clunk, and Bad came running down the stairs.  
"What did you say?"  
The door opened again, and Dream leapt backwards, startled. Skeppy entered, shutting the door, a grin on his face. "Nice work."  
Dream grinned back, and Bad hopped from foot to foot eagerly. "What did you _say?_ "  
Dream shrugged. "They didn't know that George was taken for testing. I told them that, and they aren't allowed to perform the operation without specific notation stating that George is going through testing, so they left."   
He sighed. "They'll be back, though. We've got to go."  
Bad shook his head. "I don't get it. Why don't they want to replace out bands, too? It's not just George who's not being tracked."  
"Because George disabled his band entirely," Dream replied. "It doesn't work at all, not even to fool the government, so-"  
It hit him. How had the government found them?  
The same thought seemed to have occurred to Bad, and he frowned, a look of concentration on his face. An icy feeling slithered through Dream's veins.  
"Fundy?"  
Floris poked his head out of the kitchen, and seeing the grim look on Dream's face, cautiously approached the group. "Yeah?"  
There was no trace of smile left on Dream's face. "Did you give them our location?"  
Floris flushed slightly, and it told Dream all he needed to know. He took a step towards him.  
"So you did. They found George because of you."  
Floris shook his head. "They were going to put him into testing either way! I needed something to show, I had been away for ages!"  
Dream clenched his teeth. "So you told them where we are?"  
Floris looked away. "I…"  
"Look at me, Floris."  
Floris met his eyes. "Yes, I told them."  
Dream's eyes searched his face, then he stepped back, disgusted. "I… I trusted you."  
Floris couldn't look at him. "I didn't have a choice. They were already suspicious of me, and I had to give some information, I wouldn't have been able to seem neutral without-"  
Dream blew up. "You sure as hell didn't have to tell them where we are! They want to kill him! They want to kill George, they- they're going to kill him! Because of you!"  
Floris shook his head. "No! No, he was already going to be tested, I had no part in it!"  
Dream shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Because of you, we have to run. _Again._ "  
"Then we'll run," Floris pleaded. "You can't stay here forever, Dream!"   
"NO!"  
Floris looked up, scared.  
Dream stared at him dead in the eyes. "Not you. Me, Bad, Skeppy, George - we're going. You can stay here, or go run to the government with our information. I don't care. You're not coming with us."  
Floris stepped forwards. "Dream, please-"  
" _Don't call me that._ "  
Floris stopped. He hadn't ever seen Dream like this.  
"Clay…"  
Dream shook his head. "I trusted you, _Floris_. I really did."  
He turned on his heel, motioning to Bad and Skeppy. "Come on. We have to get George to the forest. We can go from there."  
Floris stared, unable to speak, tears forming in his eyes. "Clay, please, I'm sorry!"  
Dream, halfway up the stairs, turned back. "You've run too far, Floris. I can't forgive you this time."  
He turned and walked up the stairs, not looking back.


	8. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im baaaaaack  
> so sorry for the wait - i have a few chapters laid out now so consistent uploading should become a thing, hopefully  
> so yeah heres the chapter and enjoyyyy

Floris was still standing at the foot of the steps.  
The group had left a while ago, taking George and carrying him to the forest. Floris had absolutely no idea where they were going, but it didn't matter anymore. They had left him, left him standing, speechless, blinking back tears.  
He had heard Dream say they were going to head to the west end, through the town and around the fields. The west end of Florida was the farming end, so he had no clue why they'd want to go there, but at least it was something. He could follow them, try and convince Dream to let him in…  
No, not Dream, Clay. Convince Clay.  
Something Floris hadn't ever been able to do.  
Floris squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to allow the tears to fall. No, he couldn't go after them. Clay had made up his mind - there was a group, and Floris wasn't part of it.   
It was all he had ever wanted. To be accepted somewhere, somewhere he could feel like he was a contribution to the group. In all his years growing up without a family, he had never truly had a home. He had thought he had finally found one with Dr- with Clay.  
But he was wrong.  
Floris sniffled, then immediately felt a rush of rage at himself for showing emotion. _Stop this nonsense, Floris. Get up. Consider your options._  
Floris took a deep breath. Dre- Clay, Clay had left the keys to the house here, so he could keep it. It wasn't a present, though. Just a reminder that he wasn't welcome with them.  
His s-mob was still in the fields, so he could take that and go… where? There weren't many options. At least he wasn't being pursued by the government like they were. At least he was safe.  
Then an idea came to mind.  
Floris wiped at his eyes, determination spreading through his thoughts like wildfire.  
He knew what he was going to do. And he knew how to do it.

The forest was beautiful. It was late afternoon, the sunlight streaming through the trees, the birds chirping softly. It would have been a paradise had George not been a heavy weight in Dream's arms.  
He and Skeppy were carrying George, gently, carefully. George was completely motionless, eyes closed, not showing a single sign of life. They were walking slowly, Bad right behind them with a backpack full of supplies.  
Skeppy was struggling along, breathing heavily. "Dream, remind me again where we're going?"  
Dream was still tense from what had happened in the house, but he didn't show it. "The west end. I… know someone."  
Skeppy snorted. "You know someone? What does that even mean?"  
Dream glared at him. "I know someone there. They'll be able to shelter us, for a few weeks at least. The government won't find us there unless you pull a Floris and tell them where we are."  
Bad winced, but Skeppy ignored the comment. "So we're just supposed to trust a random stranger with - with our _lives?_ Seems pretty risky to me-"  
Dream didn't turn, but there was anger written on his face. "No, not a random stranger, a friend." He was struggling to keep his voice steady. Skeppy scoffed.  
"Yeah, a friend. Sure. Dream, I have Bad to take care of. I don't want him getting hurt because of your _friend-_ "  
Dream stopped walking entirely, turning to face Skeppy. "And I had George! You just don't get it, do you? You're not safe anywhere! Try and run and they'll find you! I'm offering you a place where we can hide, be safe, at least for a bit, so stop _fucking_ arguing with me!"  
Skeppy didn't back down. "I can take care of myself! I don't need your stupid friend!"  
Dream stepped closer. "My friend can help us! We can't keep George on our own-" He looked down, at George in his arms, and in an instant, his face fell. Tears appeared in his eyes.  
Skeppy rolled his eyes. "What, you're seriously going to cry again? Haven't you done enough of that?" He felt a rustle behind him, and Bad shoved past, roughly taking George from Skeppy and laying him on the ground. He shouldered past Skeppy and enveloped Dream in a hug.  
Dream didn't move, trying to wipe away his tears but failing. "I- I don't- I don't want to l-lose him, Bad-"  
He was crying so hard Bad could barely understand him, but he shushed him gently. "It's okay, Dream."  
Skeppy just glared. "You done yet?"  
Bad released him, turning to face Skeppy, and Skeppy stepped back, a flash of fear crossing his face. There was rage, pure and unbridled, written across Bad's face.  
"Zak. You don't know what he's going through. Back. Off."  
Skeppy set his jaw but didn't reply. Bad turned back to Dream. "Dream, it's okay. I know you don't feel like it, but we have to keep moving, okay?"  
Dream rubbed his sweatshirt sleeves roughly over his eyes, nodding into Bad's shoulder. Bad breathed out slowly. "Good. I've got George, you just lead us, okay?"  
Dream nodded again, and Bad stepped back, carefully picking George up off the soft forest ground. He avoided eye contact with Skeppy, waiting for Dream to take the lead.   
Dream finally managed to stop crying, sniffling slightly as he scouted out the forest. The sun had sunk even lower in the sky, and a stab of fear ran through him. If Skeppy noticed, he didn't say anything.  
Dream circled for a moment, then found the direction West and started along the forest ground. Bad followed without complaint.   
They would be walking for a while.

Floris stood before a tall building, his s-mob parked securely behind him. He marched smartly up to the door and knocked, slamming his fist against the frosted glass panes.  
He waited a few moments, then raised his fist to knock again. Before he could, the door slid open. His boss - no, his old boss - stepped out, clad in a full black suit and white tie, silver hair gleaming. His icy blue eyes caught Floris's and held them.  
"Floris. What a… pleasant surprise."  
His voice was as smooth as liquid chocolate, and Floris felt himself shiver, even under the warm Florida sun. He tried to keep his voice stable as he spoke.  
"Officer. I've come to apply for a new job."  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the new officer from before - Eret, was it? Eret lifted a hand and waved. Floris didn't return the gesture.  
His old boss narrowed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "I… see. Floris, you do realize that you are no longer required here? You can't acquire another job for us. I'm sorry, but-"  
Floris cut him off. "I have information."  
The officer's eyebrows rose, just slightly. "Oh? And what might that be?"  
Floris took a deep breath. Was he really going to do this?  
But Clay had left him behind. He wasn't wanted there.  
Floris stared at the officer directly.  
"I know where Darryl, your lost officer, is. The one who betrayed our system. And I know how to find him."


	9. Arguments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes a chapter in the middle of the day because why the heck not  
> enjoyyy

Floris was sitting in his ex-boss's private office.  
The air around him was cold, as if the air conditioner was constantly running at double speed. He shivered.  
"Floris."  
The voice nearly sent a wild shudder through him, but he resisted. "Y- Yes, officer…?"  
He would have liked to address his old boss by name, but he didn't know it. Nobody did.   
Just another one of the government's secrets.  
The officer leaned back in his chair, looking rather comfortable, considering the situation. He paused, choosing his wording carefully. "You said you know how to find Darryl. Our… disobedient officer." Floris nodded nervously, keeping his gaze. The man sighed. "And how exactly do you intend to do that? You do realize that Darryl, like others, has somehow managed to… temporarily disable his tracking band. Without that, we don't stand a chance-"  
Floris cut him off. "But I-" he paused, seeing the disproval on his ex-boss's face. "Sorry, sir."  
The officer shook his head. "You haven't changed one bit. Go on."  
Floris didn't know whether that was an insult or a compliment, but he let it go. "I… I coded some… some stuff, sir."  
The man huffed. "What sort of stuff? Come on, boy, get to the point."  
Floris looked up. "Tracking stuff, sir. I tracked George, the boy you couldn't catch."  
The reaction was like lightning. The man stood abruptly, slamming his fists against the desk. " _Where is he?_ "  
Floris flinched unconsciously, his heart rate speeding up. "I- I don't know, sir. They got away."  
The look in the officer's eyes was murderous. "Son of a- that boy will ruin us! He's an incredible coder. He can destroy everything! If he makes it through the testing..." He sat, the fire slowly fading. "So you say you tracked him. Explain to me, boy, exactly _why_ you didn't turn him in immediately?"  
Floris swallowed. "I, um, I wanted them to… trust me. So that I could turn all of them in at once." A lie, but a prepared one - he wasn't stupid enough to make stuff up on the spot. No, his ex-boss was a smart man.   
Not smart enough to recognize the lie, though. The officer nodded curtly. "And where are they now?"  
"I don't know, sir," Floris admitted. "But I can code my simulation again. I can track them again."  
The man nodded. "Yes. Yes, and you will do so immediately." Floris frowned. "But sir, I- I was fired-" His ex-boss- no, his boss now- shook his head. "Top coder, Floris. Kick the other guy out - it's your office now." He reached under his desk, producing a pair of keys. "Get to work."  
Floris, speechless, took the keys. It was everything he had wanted.  
It was a dream come true.  
So why did it feel so wrong?

The group was still walking.  
After several rotations and a break to eat, Dream and Bad were in the lead holding George, while Skeppy trailed behind, a sour expression on his face. Night was falling fast, and they could all tell.  
In a couple of hours, the sunlight would be gone.  
Skeppy cleared his throat. "Dream, I- uh, I don't mean to be rude, but is your _friend_ close? Because I don't know if you've noticed, but night is falling fast, and we can't keep going in the dark-"  
"We're almost there," Dream replied, without so much as looking in Skeppy's direction. Skeppy winced slightly but didn't respond.  
Another half hour passed. Then 45 minutes. An hour.  
Even Bad was looking uncomfortable at this point. Skeppy sighed, making the decision to step in against his better judgement. "Dream, what does 'almost there' mean to you? Because it's been over an hour since you said-"  
"Shut up," Dream growled.  
Skeppy's eyebrows shot up, but he persisted. "Dream. I don't think it's logical to say we're gonna get there before sunset, and we've been walking all day. We're all tired, can't we take a break?"  
Dream turned wildly, advanced on Skeppy, then checked his pace, slowing. "Fine. You know what? Fine. You want to stop for the night? Let's stop. Where do you plan on sleeping, then?"  
Skeppy's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. He struggled for a moment before composing himself. "I- uh, I'm not sure, um-" He turned around, scoping out the area around him. "We should build a shelter. Just a temporary one, for tonight." He turned back to Dream. "What do you think?"  
Dream nodded, the fire seeping out of him, but something was off in his eyes. Was it…  
Guilt?  
A flash of dread ignited in Skeppy's chest and began to spread. "Dream?"  
"Yeah?"  
Skeppy took a deep breath. "How far is your friend?"  
Dream stared. "What do you mean? I already told you, we're almost there-"   
"Dream."  
Dream looked down. "He's… a bit further than I thought."  
Skeppy groaned. "How much is a bit?"  
"A few hours?"  
"On foot or by s-mob?"  
Dream looked down again, but didn't answer. "Dream?"  
He looked up. "By s-mob."  
Skeppy exhaled. "You said we were almost there."  
"I thought we could take an s-mob and drive into the evening," Dream replied. "I didn't realize how late it was."  
Skeppy stared, then threw up his hands in exasperation. "Great. Just great." He paced in a circle, turning back to face Dream. "So now what do we do?"  
Dream looked away. "Make a shelter, I guess, and stay the night. We have enough food to make it until the morning, and the forest ends soon enough. We can take an s-mob and go from there."  
Skeppy frowned. "So you're saying we need to walk to the edge of the forest, steal an s-mob, and drive for- for hours, just to get to your _friend_ , and do all this while holding George?" He glared at Dream. "Seems like a great plan, doesn't it?"  
"Well do you have a better one?" Dream shot back.  
Skeppy hesitated. "Well… no." He rolled his eyes. "Great. Let's get started."  
Bad, who had been quietly spectating the conversation, spoke up. "Skeppy, take George and put him down somewhere? I'll start on the shelter. Dream, you go rest for a bit, okay?"  
Dream looked away but didn't protest. Skeppy took George in his arms, setting him down a few feet farther on a pile of leaves and making sure he was stable before returning to Bad.  
"Come on. We have work to do."


	10. Protestor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know how I even got this chapter out but here it is  
> As per usual enjoy :D

Floris knew where the Top Coder's office was, only from walking past it and staring longingly many times per day, for years in the past.  
It was his office now.  
He arrived at the shiny wooden door sporting a bright label. It read "Top Coder" in engraved letters, and Floris felt his heart race. His office. This was his office.  
He took a deep breath and opened the door.   
The office looked almost identical to his boss's: A window by the far wall, desk, computer. A chair, but this one was occupied. A brown-haired, brown eyed man sat, staring at the computer with great intent. Floris winced inwardly.  
The man looked up. "Hey. You need something?"  
Floris found his mouth moving, but nothing came out. For some reason, this person looked… familiar.  
The character kept staring, and there was something odd about him. Floris stared, craning his neck slightly to get a better look.  
He wore a white hoodie, sleeves hiked up, a simple flame on the front. His shoes had a checkered pattern. It made Floris rather uneasy.   
He cleared his throat. "Top Coder?"  
"That's me," the guy laughed nervously. His wrists were completely bare. It put Floris off, somehow.  
He shook it off and stepped forwards, regaining his confidence. "Not anymore, it isn't. Step out, officer. Your time here is done."  
A flash of panic shot across his face, but quickly concealed itself. "I- I must have misunderstood you, bro, I-"  
Floris cut him off. "That's officer to you." Hadn't this guy ever learned manners?  
The guy flushed. "Officer, yeah, uh-" He stood in a heartbeat, eyes glinting. "Sorry officer! Gotta go now, see ya around!"  
He rushed for the door, and Floris wasn't prepared - he was knocked aside as the guy sprinted out and down the hall, his muddy shoes leaving imprints on the pristine red carpet. Floris frowned.  
Strange. And why hadn't he been in uniform? Clearly, this person wasn't fit for Top Coder in the first place. Well, they had Floris to fix that.  
He crossed the room and sat at the desk, squinting at the computer, then blinking, trying to process the information. There was no code, no application open, even. Just a few simple words. It read:  
 _Testing kills people.  
Interactions are life.  
Interactions are freedom._  
Floris stared, then leapt to his feet. A fucking protester. That's who that had been. Not Top Coder - an imposter.  
In their building.  
Floris swiftly crossed the room, slamming his palm against the red emergency button to broadcast to the building. "Attention! A protestor has been spotted on grounds. White hoodie, checkered shoes. Catch him!"  
He released the button, already heading for the door. Protestors weren't common, but when they came, he knew the protocol. They were to be caught, then sentenced at the head Trial Chamber. Then, if they were found guilty, they were killed by injection, lethal poison in a vein. Nothing more, nothing less.  
Still, as he descended the steps, looking for the protestor, guards flanking him on both sides, he couldn't get the white screen out of his head. A message.  
A warning.

"Pass me that stick?"  
Skeppy looked up. "Which one?"  
"The one next to you." Bad gestured impatiently.  
Skeppy looked around but saw nothing. "We're in a forest, Bad. There's sticks everywhere.  
Bad rolled his eyes, dropping the branch he was holding and walking over. "This one, Skeppy." He picked up a branch the size of Skeppy's arm, then lugged it over to the camp.  
Their shelter was starting to take shape. A cluster of branches surrounded a large oak tree, propped up in such a way to offer a roof. Half was covered by a small, lightweight blanked Dream had helpfully brought along. The other half was open.  
Bad placed the branch down, then stepped back to examine the shelter. It wasn't perfect, that was for sure, but it was… something.  
And something was better than nothing.  
Right?  
Bad cocked his head, then nodded. "It'll do, at least for tonight. It's almost sunset, Skeppy, can you go prepare for dinner? I'll get Dream."  
Skeppy nodded. "I'll be in the… shelter thingy."   
Bad smiled and went off in search of Dream. The forest was thick, but he hadn't wandered far - Bad found him by the edge of a small pond, staring down at his own reflection.  
"Dream?"  
Dream looked up. "Oh, hey, Bad. Done the shelter?" His right hand was closed in a fist, and curiosity sparked through Bad, although he didn't draw attention to it.  
"Yeah, Skeppy's getting dinner. Ready to head back?"  
He saw Dream hesitate, then nod. "Yeah, let's go."  
Bad turned to lead them back to the shelter, but not before he saw Dream's hand unclench and drop something.  
A small, bright blue flower fell gently to the ground.

They had searched the grounds thoroughly for an hour, at least. Floris was exhausted, but didn't care to show it.  
At last, another, lesser officer ran up to him. "TC? The head wants you in his office."  
Floris nodded, and the officer headed off in the opposite direction. He turned back to the building, his guards flanking him. Now that he was Top Coder, he, himself, the one and only Floris, had guards. Guards willing to protect him.  
It was amazing. Enthralling.  
Floris entered the building and his guards dispersed, having no need to follow him here. There wasn't any danger inside of the central tech quarters in Florida. Not ever.  
He made his way to the head's office, entering with an air of confidence he'd never had while in this building before. The head looked up.  
"Ah, Floris. You reported the intruder, I heard?" Floris nodded, and he continued. "We haven't found them, as I'm sure you know."  
Floris frowned. "Sir, I can keep looking. He's bound to be here somewhere-"  
"He's gone," the officer said swiftly, looking up at Floris. "He escaped."  
Floris didn't reply, sensing it would be smarter to remain silent. His boss shook his head.  
"It's a pity they got away, but we'll have scouts looking out for them. No band?"  
Floris thought back to what he'd seen. His bare wrists. That was what had unnerved him - they didn't have a band on.  
"No, sir. No band."  
The head nodded. "As I expected. Well, Floris, I'll let you go for tonight. I expect you here at 8:30 tomorrow morning, as per usual."  
Floris hesitated. "Sir, I could keep working-"  
The head cut him off. "No. No, the protestor will have contaminated information spreading around. You didn't see any messages from them, correct?"  
A swirl of distrust pooled in Floris's stomach as he shook his head. "No, sir. No messages." The blank screen of the computer bounced around his head, and he shook it vigorously, as if that would do anything.   
The officer didn't seem to notice. "Alright. Report home for today, and I'll see you tomorrow."  
Floris nodded. No sense in arguing, was there? "See you tomorrow, sir." He walked to the doorway, pausing only when his boss's voice sounded once more. "And Floris?"  
Floris turned. "Yeah?"  
"It's good to have you back."


	11. Serious Consideration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back :0  
> Bit of a trigger warning: slight, _slight_ mention of blood, nothing more, nothing less-  
> Thank you _ever_ so much for reading, love and appreciate you all <3 enjoy!

Floris was eating dinner. By himself. In his s-mob.  
It wasn't the best way to spend his time, but he wanted a meal before he went to bed - and besides, using Dream- no, _Clay's_ house seemed like too much of a reminder of what he'd lost to his own stupidity. He'd sleep there, but every moment he could avoid would be spent away from there. Anywhere else.  
He slurped up another spoonful of canned noodles and winced slightly, wondering what the rest of his ex-friends were eating for dinner. Something better than this, surely. At least people against the government got to eat whatever they wanted.  
He shook his head. Overthinking, for sure. This job, this position - it's all he had ever wanted. Now, finally, after years of work, it was his.   
It still felt off, and he couldn't put a finger on why.  
Maybe it was the loneliness. Top Coder was a coveted spot, but it meant little to no interactions with his coworkers - not that he was allowed to interact with them either way. Against the government, people could interact with whomever they liked.  
 _It's the losing side_ , his brain argued. _They're all gonna get tracked down and die. You? You're set for life._  
Floris knew it was true. Top Coders weren't eligible for testing, so he'd never have to worry about that again. He had no family to protect, no friends to worry about. He was free.  
But he wasn't really free, was he? He couldn't interact with others. Couldn't eat what he wanted, wake up whenever he'd like to. He was held to his position in the government with chains of steel: They'd never break, not while he was alive.  
But it didn't matter, because he didn't need them to break. Floris was living the life he'd always dreamt of. He'd gone from a boy without a family to one of the most valued positions in not only Florida, but the whole world.  
He slurped another noodle. This was his life now, and he was going to learn to love it.  
Even if it took everything he had in him.

The group of four, minus George, were eating soup.  
It wasn't much of a dinner, the watery broth, but it was something. And something was better than nothing.  
Skeppy had suggested picking berries to eat, but Bad had turned him off. Apparently, some of the berries were poisonous. Better to feel hungry than die in the middle of a forest from some stupid berries.  
Skeppy drank another spoonful of what tasted like water, wincing slightly as he did. This was disgusting.  
Dream was thinking the same thing, or, at least, something similar. His thoughts, unlike Skeppy's, had wandered to the unexplored territory of… Floris.  
What was his old friend doing now? Eating, probably. Dream had made sure to leave food in the fridge, enough for Floris to take for the next few days as he figured out what to do with his life. He may have betrayed them, but deep inside, Dream didn't hate him as much as he'd like to. They had, after all, been friends for a long time. It took more than a simple betrayal to do that…  
Or did it?  
Dream's gaze skipped over the trees and landed on George, who was propped up against a tree, eyes closed, looking almost as if he were sleeping. Dream knew better. Looking at George made his heart hurt, so he turned away, back to his canteen of what they called soup. Better to endure the taste than look at George's helpless face, the face that wouldn't ever wake up again, open it's eyes, say Dream's name. Dream's breath caught in his throat, and he almost choked on his soup, tears springing to his eyes. He felt the other's gazes on him, but he didn't dare look around.  
The stupid tears wouldn't go away. Dream half-heartedly swiped at his eyes, then set down the canteen of soup and rose to his feet, not looking at the others. "I'll be right back."  
He turned away, and Bad rose slightly, but Skeppy pulled him back down. "Let him go. He'll be fine." Bad nodded, worry on his face, but he didn't move after him.  
The sun had lowered considerably, and the air felt cool around Dream as he walked through the forest, pushing back tears. In the darkness, the blue flowers he had picked earlier looked so pretty. He wanted George to see them.  
He wanted one more moment with George. One more second, even. Just to tell him goodbye. Say how much he loved him one last time. Share one more kiss.  
He stopped be a tall tree and slid down to his knees, burying his face in his hands, his breath shaky. There was so much he wanted to tell George, so much he wouldn't ever get to say. His breath caught, and suddenly, he was crying, tears streaming down his face, all the pain and emotion suddenly flooding out. He slammed a fist into the tree, felt it rip open his knuckles, didn't even care. George. All he wanted was George.  
The anger subsided, and he was left sitting against the tree, tears flooding his face with water. He leaned his head back against the bark, staring at the sky. It was pretty. The stars were barely visible behind the thick clouds, masking the deep blue of the sky as they flowed across the skyscape. Slowly, Dream's breath evened out. He touched his knuckles gingerly, wincing as his fingers came away red. He'd have to get Bad to check that out later.  
For now, though, he should probably head back. It wasn't smart to be out in the forest at night, especially with his limited knowledge of the landscape around him.  
Slowly, Dream pulled himself to his feet, looking around him until he spotted the damp glow of their shelter. He started to walk back, slowly, breathing in the fresh night air as he did, his heart finally settling into a normal pattern. He was okay. George wasn't okay.  
But he was okay.   
He had to be okay.

Floris, who had finished his meal, stood in front of Clay's house. The door was open already - it was just a matter of whether or not he actually wanted to go inside.  
He knew he did. In a matter of speaking, he very much wanted to go to his guest room, lie down, and pass out of exhaustion. He was literally wearing pyjamas - he had changed in the s-mob to limit contact with Clay's house.   
But at the same time, he really, _really_ didn't want to go inside. At all. In fact, he would do just about anything to sleep somewhere else, at that moment.  
But it wasn't safe to sleep outside, not in the heart of Florida, the primary headquarters for the government. No, he had to go inside. He took a deep breath and stepped in, closing the door behind him.   
It looked just like he remembered, which was dumb, because obviously nobody had been here to change anything, so of course it looked the same. Floris averted his eyes from the rooms and walked up the stairs, determined not to look around him.  
He made it to his room and closed the door, thankful for the lack of scenery. Without hesitation, he dropped down on the bed, exhaustion taking over almost immediately as he closed his eyes.  
As soon as he did, the letters popped up in his mind.  
 _Testing kills people.  
Interactions are life.  
Interactions are freedom._  
Floris cursed, throwing his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Stupid protestor. This was all his fault. He never would have doubted his position if that idiot hadn't showed up, impersonating as Top Coder. And they hadn't even caught him.  
Floris shook his head, trying to focus. Sleep. He needed sleep.  
He closed his eyes, avidly aware of the sentences presenting themselves to him, and tried to ignore his mind. Eventually, somehow, he passed out, and dreamt of people in flaming hoodies walking around and interacting freely with each other. When they turned, each and every single face was Clay's.  
He didn't sleep much that night.


End file.
